


Cause I Know When You Need It

by TheDirtyBirdie-Archive (TheDirtyBirdie)



Series: Don't You Know I Ain't Fucking with Them Good Boys [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Bondage, Breathplay, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, Extremely Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Fisting, Hand Feeding, M/M, Masochism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rimming, Sadism, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Underage Sex, Vaguely Canon-Adjacent, painal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie-Archive
Summary: Peter is learning what it means to belong to Wade, and what happens when he disappoints him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE NOTE:** There are no safe-words used in this story. It is _extremely dub/non-con_ , and not at all how anyone should _ever_ practice these kinks in real life.
> 
> **Readers Beware:**   
>  _this is going to be **much more violent/violating** than the last two stories in this series were, so if you haven't read those yet, definitely do that first (it won't make sense without them, anyways) and even if you have, just keep that in mind. Good news is: if you're more a fan of heavy kink with softer context, you'll probably be into the next spideypool story (not a part of this series) I'm working on!_
> 
> Title is from [the same song as always](https://open.spotify.com/track/1j0Rb762xxT0eccglHKsRv?si=byTw4A6jTZCcTs3Jvw_27w) ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for @fingersnapstothat, who [requested](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/150651231) that Wade introduce Peter to anal plugs (and oh boy, does he ever), and an anon who [requested](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171384188791/ok-so-i-was-thinking-with-your-spideypool-fic) Tony trying to figure out how, exactly, Peter managed to tear his suit like that.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony is clearly baffled, and Peter can't say he blames him. He’s hunched over a metal table in his workshop, closely inspecting the torn suit in his hands while Peter stands awkwardly off to the side, trying his best not to blush. He’s not sure he’s succeeding, but he desperately _does not_ want to have to explain himself. Not only because sex, but specifically because sex with Wade, who is not exactly the Avengers’ favourite person. He's pretty sure they still consider him at least twenty-five percent super-villain on a good day.

Tony spreads the suit over the table and pulls over a large, overhead magnifier, presumably to see how heavily damaged the fibers of the fabric of it are around the tears.

“Um. It just happened in a fight, y’know? I was trying to get away from this guy and he grabbed me by the suit and it just- _rhhhhhhhgh_.” Peter mimes a ripping motion with his hands, trying to look more casual than he feels. Judging by the look Tony sends his way, he’s not exactly selling it.

“Who were you fighting?”  
“Just some guy. Uh, why?”  
“Well, ‘just some guy’ would have to be pretty strong to rip the suit clean apart, like this. Anyone we should be keeping an eye out for?”  
“Oh. Nope! No, I got him. Beat him, beat him real good.” Oh, god- why? Why does he speak?  
“You kept fighting?” Tony raises a brow.  
“Um, yeah.”  
“Naked?”

Peter definitely does not manage to hold back a blush like that. His face and neck are flooding with heat as he stammers through a confused, half-denial.

“Um- Yeah, I mean. No- well. I-I… just. Had to. Right? Couldn’t let him get away, so.” Peter is not certain he has ever wanted to die quite as much as he does in this moment, and that's saying something. To be fair, Tony is also staring at him like he’s regretting every decision that led him to his association with Peter, like he is lowering the collective IQ of Manhattan with every word he speaks. He might not be wrong, honestly, but at least they're both suffering.

Tony shakes his head and turns back to the suit.  
“Jesus, kid.” He sighs, and Peter makes the mistake of letting himself relax, just a bit. “You know what a miracle it is no one got that on video, these days?” Peter laughs.  
“Yeah! Definitely, I guess I just lucked out. It was pretty dark, anyways.”  
“Right. Dark. In New York." Yeah, Peter's an idiot. "So, tell me more about this guy. Was it just super strength? Did he have some kind of suit? Powers?”  
“Um. I’m not sure… Just super strength, I think? I guess he might’ve had other powers, but he didn’t use them.”  
“Probably not, then. You said this happened last night?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You left him for the police?”  
“Uh...yeah.” Peter doesn't feel great about where this is going.  
“Great, what’d he look like? I just want to have JARVIS take a quick look at his arrest record, see if S.H.I.E.L.D. knows about him.” Tony is obviously trying to call his bluff, and it's definitely working. Peter is running out of ways to make this believable, at this point it feels generous to tell himself he had any to begin with. Why did he think he could lie to Tony Stark, exactly?

“He...was never arrested.”  
“Oh? That's strange. Because he got away, or because he didn’t exist?” Peter is having very unfortunate flashbacks to being caught with icing on his face as a child, vehemently denying that he had any knowledge of where the last slice of birthday cake had gone.   
“He never existed.” He admits, shamefaced.  
“Thought so.” Tony sighs again, finally turning to face him properly, arms crossed. “So what really happened?”

Peter bites his lip, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he tried his hardest to resist bringing them up to cover his face. They say the best lie is a half truth, right? He can do this. He may literally die of embarrassment in the process, but he can do this.  
“Well, someone did… rip it off. That was true. We just weren’t-uh, weren't fighting.” For a moment, Tony looks puzzled, before his eyes go wide and he turns away with a groan.  
“Come on, please, tell me you did not _rip off your suit_ so you could get laid five seconds faster.” Peter’s face is so dark he’s fairly certain that he may be on the verge of a stroke. He finally let his hands come up to hide his face shame.  
“Wait.” Tony’s voice is suddenly grave. “Did someone hurt you? Is that-”  
“No! No, no, no, no. I swear.” Peter rushes, hands out as if he’s going to be able to physically stop Tony’s thoughts from continuing down that path. “It wasn’t that. He was just- we were so… excited? And-”  
“No,” Tony interrupts, thankfully slipping back from concern to embarrassment and vague amusement. “Please. If you have any respect for me as an authority figure at all, do not finish a single one of those thoughts. I don’t want to know. Just glad you’re okay.”  
“Okay.” Peter squeaks. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tony turns back to the torn up suit on the work table with a grin.

“I remember what it’s like to be seventeen. It’s a little hazy around the edges, sure, but I get it. I do. Just please, please, promise me that next time you will think with your upstairs brain just long enough to get the suit off properly. And, more importantly, promise me that if you fail, you will come up with a more convincing lie for next time so that we never have to have this conversation again.”

“I promise.” Peter swears, and he really does mean it. This is definitely not a conversation he would like to revisit, ever.  
“Good.” Tony replies. For a sweet second, he thinks that’s going to be it. He’s made it, in the clear. Almost thankful for all of the embarrassment as it seems to have spared him further questioning.  
“So, who was it?” Tony asks, a little lilt in his voice and- _no_ .  
“ _Oh my god._ ” Peter is both concerned and mortified. Tony Stark is not suggesting that he _dish_. It can’t be happening. It's- against the natural order, or something.  
“What? Sue me, I’m curious. It’s gotta be someone I know, right? Or at least someone I know _of_ , if they were able to do this. Stark Tech doesn’t come apart that easy for some run-of-the-mill super strength. So?”  
“Mr. Stark, no. Oh my god, no. We’re not having this conversation.” Tony looks up at him and pouts, which- ridiculous. Truly, ridiculous.  
“Come on, am I not cool enough to talk to? I think I’m pretty cool. You even used to think I was cool, remember that? Literally months ago?” Peter groans into his hands.  
“No. Please. Not that cool. Never that cool.” Tony laughs. Tony is a cruel, cruel man, laughing at Peter’s obvious agony.

“Alright, alright.” He relents. “But, I gotta say, kid, you’ve got me a little suspicious, now.” Peter sighs, pulling his hands away from his face and shuffling over a little closer.  
“It’s not that I’m hiding anything,” That's a lie. “Or that I don’t trust you, Mr. Stark.” That's a little more honest. “It’s just… it’s new, you know? We haven’t really talked, a lot. About this. So, I don’t really want to tell anyone, yet.” And that’s definitely more on the money. Things are new with Wade, and while he definitely isn’t in doubt that Wade wants him. Wants _them_ , he isn’t entirely sure he understands Wade enough to fully know what that means, just yet. Let alone how to navigate explaining it to other people. And really, really let alone explaining it to Tony or any of the others, he can't imagine any world where they welcome Wade with open arms.

“Alright.” Tony accepts, reaching over to give Peter’s shoulder a brief, somewhat awkward squeeze. “That’s fair, kid. Just make sure he treats you right.” Peter’s thankful he’s already blushing, because if he wasn’t, he definitely would at that. He feels pretty well taken care of, but he’s pretty sure the standards by which he's judging that feeling aren’t exactly what Tony is talking about when he says it.  
“He does, don’t worry.”

When the moment finally breaks, Tony returns his attention to the suit, giving Peter tacit permission to tinker around the lab until he’s figured out what he’s going to do with it. It’s not the first time Peter’s been allowed relatively free-run of the lab, but it never grows boring. Tony never stops working, developing, and as such there’s always a few new and improved things to catch his interest.

Eventually, Tony calls him over.

“Okay, kid. I’ve got something for you, but you’re gonna have to be careful.” Peter nods, eager. Usually when Mr. Stark says it like that, it means he’s getting something fun, if slightly unstable.  
“I was working on a new prototype suit for you, there may still be a few kinks to work out, but it should be good enough for a couple days while I get this one back in fighting shape.”  
“Awesome.” He grins, Tony just rolls his eyes in response.  
“Don’t get too excited, this one is strictly on loan, for now. I mean it.”  
“Sure thing, Mr. Stark. Whatever you say.” Tony snorts. He’s pretty sure they both know this suit isn’t coming off once it’s on. Metaphorically speaking, obviously.

Mr. Stark hands him a folded lump of red and blue and Peter’s smile threatens to overwhelm his face.  
“Go take if for a test drive before you go.” He instructs, waving a hand vaguely toward the windows. He definitely doesn’t have to tell Peter twice.

Within minutes, Peter has shirked his clothes, wiggled his way into the suit, and leapt off the nearest balcony the tower has to offer.

All-in-all, the new suit is pretty great. He manages to take out a window or two by accident, figuring the new interface and expanded web settings, which- oops. Mr. Stark probably won’t mind too much. All in the name of science, right? Either way, he doesn’t come across any notable hiccups, so he gets the go-ahead, stuffs his clothes into his backpack, and decides to swing back home instead of changing into his civvies, eager to show Wade his new suit and recount his all too embarrassing visit with Tony. Well, maybe minus the more serious bits towards the end.

It feels weird to think of Wade as his boyfriend. Weird, but good. Really good. But still, he should probably actually double check with him before he gets too excited about it. Although, his mind can’t quite shake the intensity of Wade’s eyes when he’d told him he was his, to do with as he liked, and- well. He’s not too worried about it.

It occurs to him half-way there that he doesn’t actually have any clue if Wade will still be at his apartment when he gets there. Nor does he know where Wade lives to go check for him there instead. In fact, he doesn’t even have his number, though he’s certain that he has a phone. Very certain.

He’s still pondering this when he rounds the corner to the alleyway where he normally stops to change. He’s just planning on tossing his clothes on over the suit, for now, when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just a second too late and he’s pushed forward into the wall, hard enough to lose his breath, arms pinned behind him, against his back, by a strong grip.

“Miss me, baby boy?” A shiver runs down Peter’s spine and his heart starts racing for an entirely different reason than a moment ago. He lets himself melt into the force of Wade’s grip, a little. Appreciating the sharp stretch of his shoulders.  
“Yeah, I did.”  
“Good.” Wade says, voice low, leaning forward to bite at his neck a little before stepping back to release him. He whistles as Peter turns around, feeling flustered and grateful for the cup in his suit, since he’s pretty sure there’s no excuse to start getting hard that easily, teenager or not.  
“Check out Spidey’s new duds!” Wade exclaims, presumably to someone only present in his own mind. “Pretty spiffy, sweetheart. Where’d you get ‘em so quick?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands casually over Peter’s arms and chest. It makes the hairs all over his body stand on end, but Wade won't know that. He holds his arms out, making it easier to admire.  
“Mr. Stark already had it ready, I guess. It’s got some new features! Wanna see?”

“Maybe later.” Wade’s tone is just a little dark, and god help him, Peter is already so turned on by it. “It looks like it’s your lucky day, baby boy. I got you a present, too,” He gestures to the unmarked shopping bag sitting a few feet away. “And I’m pretty sure you’re gonna like mine better.” Peter grins, already bubbling with anticipation.  
“Yeah? I’m not so sure, the suit is pretty cool. Gonna need you to prove it to me.” He taunts, stepping a little closer to Wade, unable to keep from feeling drawn to him. Wade’s voice has gone a little dangerous when he replies.  
“You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

* * *

* * *

Peter starts stripping pretty much the second he gets inside, wary of Tony’s pleading that he do his best to keep this suit in tact and genuinely not wanting to be in that situation again so soon, or, preferably, ever.

Despite all that happened between them already, heat still rises to his cheeks when he strips off the last of his clothes, especially when he catches a glimpse of the now yellowed bruises on his hips and knows he must still have them everywhere. Wade slips up behind him, still fully clothed save for his gloves and his mask. Peter can feel the indents of his suit and protrusions of his belt digging into his skin as Wade runs his hands along Peter’s sides, chin tucked into Peter’s neck. He flushes red down to his chest with the knowledge that Wade is looking at how hard he is already, seeing how needy he is for him. It's embarrassing, but pleasure curls in his chest.

“Look at you.” Wade croons. “So eager for it. Can’t even wait to get your clothes off before getting hard, huh?” Wade’s hand comes down to grip his cock, not moving it, just holding him there, squeezing a little. Peter can’t hold back a gasp as his hands clutch Wade’s arms. Desperate for- something.  
“You’re almost ready to start leaking, baby boy. You don’t even know what I’m going to do to you, yet.” Wade lets him go and Peter whines, he tries to turn in Wade’s arms and for a moment Wade doesn’t seem like he's going to let him, but he relaxes and Peter plasters himself to his chest, squirming against the rough texture of his uniform. One arm slides up around Wade’s neck and the other reaches down to palm at his cock while he presses their lips together, kissing him messy and just a little frantic.  
“You can do whatever you want to me, I’ll be so good for you, Wade.” Wade makes a hungry sound into his mouth, grasping his waist painfully tight. “So good. Just let me get your cock inside me, Daddy, please. I don’t care where.”  
“Oh, sweetheart.” Wade laughs into the kiss. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Wade pushes him back and shoves him toward the unmade bed, which Peter eagerly clambers onto, waiting awkwardly, shifting and unsure what to do with himself, while Wade shirks his weapons and utility belt, leaving his uniform itself on. He grabs the shopping bag and makes his way to the side of the bed. Dropping it on the rickety table next to the bed, he undoes his belt, tugging his suit pants down just enough to free his cock. He’s not quite hard, but he’s starting to swell, just a little, hanging fat and heavy between his legs and this time Peter is barely even embarrassed at how it makes him salivate, already craving the phantom weight of it on his tongue.

Wade sits down at the corner of the bed, shifting so that he’s leant back against the wall, one leg up on the bed just slightly bent to the side, and one foot planted on the ground, still, and pats the space next to him on the mattress. Peter doesn’t waste a second scooting over to him and as soon as he gets close Wade grabs him by the hair, more than a little too hard for comfort, pain blooming across his scalp, and pulls him over so he’s laying half on his side, facing the wall and neck pillowed on Wade’s thigh.

His hands are trying to find purchase on the mattress, to move himself into a more comfortable position, but Wade slips his other arm around and under him, grabbing the arm that’s pressed into the mattress to yank it behind his back. He lets go of it, and Peter doesn’t dare move it, before grabbing the other and bringing it back to join the other. He holds his wrists together, hand so tight Peter could swear he feels the bones of his wrist grind against each other.

Despite all the discomfort, Peter is hyper aware of the fact that his face is inches from Wade’s cock.

Wade jerks Peter's head to the side so he’s looking up at him, neck twisted painfully.  
“Alright, baby boy, better show me how bad you want it.” Peter tries to nod but it’s impossible with the hand holding him tight. “I don’t want to be disappointed.” His words carry a threat that shoots straight through Peter’s cock.  
“I won’t disappoint you, Daddy, I promise.” Peter swears, desperate for Wade to let him prove it. He grins down at Peter and lets his hand slip out of his hair. Peter doesn’t waste a moment.

He wets his lips and presses forward, not caring about the painful twinge in his shoulders at the strain it causes, to press a wet, suckling kiss to the head of Wade’s cock. He moans at the taste of it, sharp and salty and hot in his mouth. He brings his tongue around the tip, desperate to taste every inch of the ridge, tonguing the slit as he lets his head fall to the slide slightly so he can pull back with one more wet suck and begin licking his way down the underside of Wade’s cock.

At this angle, with Wade not being fully hard yet, it means Peter is slowly angling himself further upside down, shoulders twisting and straining against the hold Wade has on his wrists, cock dragging over his face and neck. He’s breathing heavy with the effort, and when he looks up to catch Wade’s eyes, they’re focused on him with enough intensity that it makes his cock twitch. He moans and redoubles his efforts, mouthing messily down the rest of Wade’s cock until his balls are brushing his face. He noses at them, not quite able to actually get far enough to get his mouth on them, and whines.

* * *

* * *

Wade almost laughs when Peter whines, halfway upside down with his face pressed into Wade’s cock. Writhing against his grip like all he wants is _more_.

Wade can give him more.

Honestly, the fact that he even gets to, it seems a little too good to be true. More than a little. A lot. A huge, astronomical amount. A whole fucking world too good to be happening to Wade fucking Wilson. He’d thought about it, of course he’d thought about it. Thought about grabbing Spider-Man, because back then, that’s all he’d been, tearing off that indecently tight super-suit and showing him a good time up against a wall somewhere. Thought about holding him down and making him scream, good or bad, sometimes. All these thoughts, these wants, they’re precisely why good things don’t happen to him. Not really. Not in the long run.

Which- well. All the more reason to make the most of this, now, right?

Right.

If Peter- beautiful, innocent (not so innocent anymore, the boxes remind him), _young_ Peter wants to be his, then he’s going to keep him until he can’t take it anymore, and then some.

He lets his hand slide through Peter’s hair as he goes back to mouthing his way sloppily across Wade’s cock. It’s sweet the way he preens at the touch, starving for any sign Wade will give him to show him that he’s doing well, any approval. Any affection. It’s strange, considering what Wade would do _for him_ , that he’s so cluelessly and naturally slipped himself into this role for Wade. Begging and submissive, desperate and with just enough shame left in him to play with, like he doesn’t realize that Wade would’ve taken whatever he was willing to give him. Not that it matters anymore, as far as he’s concerned, there’s no take-backs.

“Good boy.” He coos down at Peter, hand petting through his hair. Want washes over Wade and he tightens his fist and pulls him down hard, just enough that he’s now completely upside down, and when he cries out at the shock of pain Wade has surely caused with how tight his fist is curled in his hair, he slides his cock past those pretty, spit slicked licks and right down Peter’s throat, watching the bulge of himself travel through it.

He throws his head back with a groan.

“Fuck!” He grinds forward slow and deep, listening to the sweet sound of Peter choking around his cock, body twitching, but not actively struggling, like he’s fighting against his own instincts. Fighting to keep Wade's cock stuffed down his throat. That’s why he’s so good, so perfect. That’s how Wade knows he wants it as bad as he says he does. Maybe even more. More than he realizes. 

Eventually, he pulls back entirely, letting Peter sputter and gasp for air with his cock still laying against his pretty cheek, red faced and gasping for air, tears covering his temples where they'd dripped down. Wade doesn't wait long before pushing him back down, just enough that the tip of his cock breaches the back of his throat, not so much that Peter is crushed against his balls, enough room left that can still look up at him from under the cock in his mouth, but not enough that he’s quite able to breathe.

He slips his hand down to grip his throat.

“I’m gonna let go of your hands, baby boy, but you’re not allowed to touch yourself. Got it?” Peter tries to hum around his cock, and ends up coughing. He’ll take it as a yes. Peter’s good that way. He goes back to thrusting into his mouth, taking a moment to simply appreciate how good he takes it. With every thrust he pulls back just enough to let him get enough air to stay conscious. Wade keeps a hand on his throat, squeezing every time his cock slides down it, and he could swear it makes Peter’s cock twitch when he does it, like he really was made to take cock any way he can get it. Wade's cock, specifically. He's pretty sure no one else is gonna give it to him like this. Not yet, at least. They all think he's too young, too innocent, too  _good_. That's precisely why Wade does it. Besides, as long as he's around, no one else it putting their hands on his baby boy. And that isn't going to be any time soon.

Maybe not ever, if he's got anything to say about it. 

He releases his wrists, taking a moment to rub feeling back into them, because he’s nice like that, before reaching over and into the plastic shopping bag.

He pulls out a sealed, hard plastic package containing three anal plugs, each increasing in size, and can’t help grinning to himself. His baby boy is gonna  _cry_. 

For a moment, he eyes the package, deliberating between getting started with Peter’s mouth on his cock, so he can be full in both ends, and finishing now so he can concentrate fully on the pain of the stretch. In the end, he decides, why not have the best of both worlds?

He uses both hands to tear open the package, proud to see Peter doesn’t pull back an inch without Wade’s hand there to keep him in place. He tosses the packaging to the floor, grabs the smallest plug, and leaves the other two on the bed, off to Peter’s side.

Pulling Peter back again, enough that he slips off of Wade’s cock, so he can pull his head up enough to look at him, he pops the smallest plug into his mouth in place of his cock, not waiting for him to register what it is.

“Get it nice and wet, baby boy, no lube for you today.” Naturally, Peter moans. That’s his boy. While Peter is mouthing at the plug, he uses his other hand to maneuver him back a little, so his head is resting against Wade's thigh a little, he won’t be able to get his cock quite as far down his throat, like this, but he’ll get to see his face while he’s stretched as wide as he’s ever been. It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

* * *

* * *

Wade pulls the small plug from his mouth and Peter shivers in anticipation. Wade’s cock is still bobbing next to his face and he can’t help shifting over slightly to mouth at it, looking up at Wade with a giddy smile on his face while he does it. Wade grabs his leg, shifting him so he’s a little more on his back, one leg splayed out to the side so his knee touches the wall, the other pulled up high. When Wade lets go of the leg he's pulled up to Peter's shoulder, he grabs it with one hand just to have something to do with it while the other kneads at the sheets.

Wade shifts a little to the side, using his new position to start thrusting further into Peter’s mouth, though not nearly as deep as before, and Peter moans around him, flattening his tongue against the bottom of his cock and hollowing his cheeks, doing his best to make up for the lack of depth. He keeps his eyes trained on Wade, since he has a feeling that’s pretty much the whole point of this new, easier position, and practically melts when he feels the blunt tip of the plug pushing against his hole.

It’s not hard to let himself go boneless over the intrusion, Wade goes slow enough to make sure he feels every millimetre of it, lingering over the widest point enough to make Peter quiver, just a little, but it’s still not quite as big as his cock. Doesn’t quite burn like Peter craves.

“So greedy.” Wade coos when Peter pushes down against the plug. He wants more, he wants, more than anything, to feel full. He wishes it was Wade’s cock, not the plug, that was filling him. But, then again, that would mean he couldn’t have it in his mouth anymore, and he’s not totally sure he’s willing to make that trade.  
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, it won’t be easy by the end. I promise.” Peter moans around his cock. The promise in Wade’s words is a little bit of a scary one but he wants him to make good on it. Knows that he will.

Wade keeps playing with the plug inside of him. Twisting it around, pulling it just enough to stretch him as far as it can, then popping it back in again. He keeps it up while he pulls his hand away from Peter’s hair, and a moment later Peter’s being smacked in the cheek by a heavy piece of silicone. He pulls off of Wade’s cock and Wade shoves the second plug into his mouth aggressively enough that he chokes around it, just a little. It’s a bit thicker than Wade at its thickest point, and a combination of pleased anticipation and nerves settle in Peter’s gut when he wonders how big the third one will be.

Peter gets it as wet as he can manage around the bulk of it in his mouth, knowing he’s going to need it. He wants it to hurt, but he’s pretty sure he doesn't need to worry about that. There's no way he could stop this one from hurting if he tried, he suspects. Especially considering that he's still feeling pretty raw from last night, and this morning.

When Wade pulls the plug out of his mouth, he doesn’t feel particularly ready for it, but then his cock is back in his mouth, and the head of it is pressing against him and- oh, _oh, fuck._ He can’t help whining around the cock in his mouth. His hips jerk up reflexively, trying to get away from the too-painful stretch of it as Wade lingers around the widest part and a hand comes down to smack him hard in the face, tears springing to his eyes.

“What did I fucking say? Don’t disappoint me. Didn’t I say that?”

Wade sounds angry. Peter chokes out a garbled affirmation around his cock.

“Good, you’d better do better, baby boy, I can make this a whole lot less pleasant for you.” A shudder wracks through Peter’s body at the thought. He knows Wade means it. He's not sure whether he wants him to follow through or not. He takes a breath, as deep as he can with a cock in his mouth, and bears down, willing himself to push past the sharp, intense burn of too-dry, too-stiff silicone stretching him out.

When he gets to the widest part again, Wade holds his hips still.

“Hold it, baby boy. Show me that you mean it.” More tears slip from Peter’s eyes, his legs are shaking and it’s getting harder to breathe through his nose, but he does his best. Thinking of how pleased Wade will be with him if he can just _do this_. It feels like time slows down as he waits out the burn of his muscles, every second stretching into several in a strange fog of pain and pleasure and the desire to please.

Finally, Wade takes mercy on him and pops the plug all the way in. Peter lets out a relieved sob around his cock.

Still, his relief doesn’t last long. Wade plays with this plug the same as he played with the other, but the pain is so, so much more consuming. Stretching him, over and over again until he’s shaking all over, taking stuttered, laboured breaths around Wade's cock, unable to focus through the confused haze of pain and pleasure. He’s not even sure what this does for him, what craving it satisfies, but he knows that as much as it hurts, he’ll be begging for more tomorrow. He can already feel the tendrils of pleasure winding over his body. Tensing.

After what feels like forever, Wade pulls his cock from his mouth so he can breathe properly. He’s so caught up in it he’s forgotten about the third plug until Wade presses it against his lips. He opens wide with a whimper and the stretch is so broad that it makes his jaw ache. It's a struggle to even wet it. Trying to move his mouth over it without choking, find room to maneuver his tongue over it at all when he mouth is stuffed so full. 

When Wade pulls it out of his mouth, and reaches down to remove the other one from his ass, Peter is trembling with nervous anticipation.

The moment it pushes against him Peter can't help it, he flinches and- fuck. _Fuck_. That’s not good.

Wade lets him know as much. He pulls back completely while Peter whimpers "I'm sorry," He sobs out. "I can do better, Daddy, I'm so-" Wade doesn't pay any attention to him, getting up to stand by the edge of the bed and dragging Peter there on his back, by the hair. He smacks him across the face, hard. Harder than last time, enough to make his ears ring. Peter takes a shuddering breath and tries not to cry.

“That’s it.” He growls. “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

He Grabs Peter, whose head is now hanging upside down off the edge of the bed, by the throat and gives no warning before he stuffs his cock down his throat, deeper and rougher than he has before. He doesn't wait before he starts fucking his face at an unforgiving pace. Peter can’t breath, he can’t swallow, he can’t even think for how far down his throat Wade’s cock is slamming. Distantly he can feel his heart pounding in his head and his lungs burning for air, but it all comes secondary to the ache in his jaw and the slap of Wade’s balls against his face.

That is, until he feels the second plug pulled roughly from him, no time to spare before the third one is being shoved, rough and impatient inside of him.

He chokes around Wade’s cock, hands coming up to shove against his hips on instinct as his body convulses in panic, half-fledged attempts to get away from the pain currently splitting him in half. He’s choking around sobs on Wade’s cock now, he knows it. Shaking like a leaf as Wade pays no mind to his hands, bringing one leg up onto the mattress to fuck down into his throat even more thoroughly and using the added leverage to force his hips to stay still as he stretches him, over and over to that wide, wide edge that makes his heart rattle in his chest with the pain of it.

Fuck, he can’t- he can’t take it, between wade’s cock and the pain, it’s too much-too. Fuck. _Fuck._

Orgasm tears through him, through the overwhelming cacophony of pain and- and, he’s not even sure what else, he hadn’t even realized how close he’d gotten. Above him, he hears Wade groan. He pulls back, leaving the plug inside of him, and grips his throat tight to pump hard and fast, pulling his own orgasm from him and spilling down Peter's throat. Peter concentrates on not choking.

When Wade finally pulls out of his mouth entirely, he wipes his spent cock off on Peter’s face, smearing come and his own saliva across his face, before crawling up the bed to collapse on it.

For a moment, Peter just lays there. Breathing hard and deep while his vision slowly steadies where it had been swimming and going grey around the edges moments ago. He can feel all of the small aches and pains which had been ignored in favour of the larger, more pressing pain in his ass starting to emerge.

The plug is still inside him, it still hurts, but it’s a different kind of pain. Hard to describe. It’s almost painful simply though the amount and intensity of the pressure it causes. It feels strange. He feels strange He sits up gingerly, nervously looking down at Wade. For the first time since this all started, he feels genuinely unsure how to approach him.

“Wade?” He asks, voice croaky and watery and small. He’s not even sure what he’s asking for, honestly, but Wade seems to know. Wade always knows.  
“Come here, baby boy.” He opens his arms and Peter lays down in them, burying his face in Wade’s neck as he tries to force his breath to come out normal, no stuttering.  
“You did so well, sweetheart.” Wade speaks into his hair, holding him tight.  
“No.” Peter chokes out, voice wrecked. “I didn’t.” Wade sighs.  
“Alright, no. You didn’t.” Wade admits. “But you’ll do better.” This time, Peter isn’t positive that makes him feel better, but it makes him feel… something. He still wants it. He nods against Wade’s neck.  
“I will. I promise.”

They stay there long enough that Peter’s beginning to feel like he might be able to fall asleep like this, despite the burn inside him and the mess slowly drying on his stomach, when suddenly the windows are shuttering, apartment shaking. There's been some type of explosion- or. Something. Anything. Who even knows, anymore. 

He’s on his feet in a second, ignoring the sharp pain that jolts up his spine as Wade groans from the bed.

“Five more minutes.” He whines.  
“Very funny, Wade." Peter chides, senses kicking into overdrive and making it almost too easy to shed the strange, hazy bubble they'd been lingering in. He's already rushing into the bathroom, wetting a towel to wipe quick across his face and stomach. "Come on, grab your stuff and- jesus. Pull your pants up.” Which. Oh god. Peter’s got his suit half way on already when it occurs to him the plug is still in, he reaches back to tug on it and-fuck. Nope. That isn't happening quick and- fuck, there just _isn’t time_. He pulls his suit up the rest of the way.  
  
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this.” Peter yells, mostly to himself, while Wade is slipping his mask back on and picking his varied weapons up off the floor.  
“Can’t believe what, baby boy?”  
“This! This, this fucking- timing. The thing. Wade. The _thing still inside of me_.” At that Wade stops and stares at him.  
“You _left it in_?” His tone is bewildered in that particularly insulting way it had been when Peter initially offered to show him his apartment. After a moment, he picks his jaw up off the ground and starts babbling. “Oh my god, baby, you have no idea how hot that is. You’re going to fight, with _that-_ come here.” Wade makes grabby hands at him but Peter is already on his way out the window.

“No time, Wade!” He shouts, a little too amused, considering the situation.  
“Just a quickie.” Wade yells after him, half laughing, but he’s already following him out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next two chapters will earn the warning at the top of the notes for this fic ♥
> 
> I will admit, the most unrealistic thing about this is how stupidly easy Wade got that fucking package open. 
> 
> P.S. Fun fact: about two thirds of the way through this, I had an irrepressible urge to listen to Biz Markie's _Just A Friend_ on repeat, no idea why but it felt right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TADAA!! It's almost three days late, for which I am very sorry, but I promise between being sick and birthday plans I really didn't have much chance to get this up. Anyways, I already pretty much had what I wanted in mind for this chapter, but the next one is going to cover a few requests ♥
> 
> _**Reader Beware:** this is the chapter in which things take a turn for the more extreme levels of dub/non-con._

In his short life, Peter has made a great many mistakes.

Like, seriously. An amazing number of mistakes, he knows that. But, truth be told, he'd have to say he's also suffered his fair share. Balance in all things, and what not. So, he finds himself struggling to think of what karmic debt he could possibly owe the universe that has landed him here, now, with Black Widow none-too subtly eyeing him for the umpteenth time since he arrived to find the corner of 173rd and Wadsworth cracked open like an egg with what could only be described as zombified androids crawling out of it. Which sounds absurd as he thinks it, but really, what doesn't these days?

They do, finally, seem to be getting a handle on things. For a while there it had felt like a serious uphill battle. The creatures weren't hard to kill, exactly, but there were just so damn many of them. They kept coming and coming, and no one had been quite willing to dive into whatever hellscape was waiting inside the crack in the ground and see figure out whatever was causing them without any information on how likely they'd be to make it back.

Well. Wade probably would have. But, Peter figures, since it's just the two of them, Natasha, and Tony against these things, he probably knew the more 'heroic' thing to do would be to stay and help make sure these things didn't reach any civilians before the block was evacuated. It makes Peter's chest flutter with pride and a little bit of lust to see first hand evidence of Wade's effort to be better. Or so he assumes.

“Okay, seriously.” Natasha demands once they get a moment to breathe, finally, leaning back against an overturned van as Peter bends halfway over, hands on his knees and head hung loose between his shoulders as he tries to catch his breath. “What is wrong with you?” His respite is short lived, head snapping up to meet her gaze and he is so, extremely grateful that his mask covers the burn of his face.

“Nothing!" He insists. "I just… pulled something.”  
“Pulled something.” He looks away, sheepish. It definitely doesn’t take a genius to pick up on how very much Natasha is **not** buying it. "You know I spot lies for a living, right?" Peter straightens up with a huff, making a sweeping gesture at the strange mix of flesh and robot carnage that surrounds them.  
"I thought you did this for a living?" Natasha rolls her eyes.  
"Don't avoid the question." Peter huffs out a laugh that morphs into a pained groan pretty much instantly. Yeah. He's got a few badly bruised ribs, at least.

"I'm not avoiding the question it's just... none of your business." He tries his hardest to sound assertive, but it's just- well. Black Widow. He'd like to see anyone else do better. He's still a little awe-struck by her, by most of them. Awe-struck and afraid, of her in particular. Sure, she's not the only one who could kick his ass, but he feels pretty confident saying she's probably one of the only ones without powers who could do it without breaking much of a sweat.

Lucky for him, Natasha seems more amused at his attempt to be bold than anything.

"Uh huh." She smirks. "Well, as long as whatever something you 'pulled' doesn't mean you're trying to fight your way through any serious injuries, like an idiot-" She gives him a very pointed look. "I suppose it doesn't have to be."  
"No! I swear, it's nothing like that." He assures her, hands up in the universal 'nothing to see here' gesture.  
"Alright. spider-boy-"  
"Man." He huffs, she just grins.  
"Fair enough."

She pushes off the car with a grunt and slings an arm around his shoulder. He sags against her, just a little. He really is more tired than he realized, and between the pain in his ribs and the pain inside him, it's definitely all starting to catch up with his body now that he's had a moment to slow down.

"Come on, kid. It looks like we're in the clear. Better go find Stark and Deadpool, who I did not fail to notice you arrived with, by the way." There's definitely a warning undercurrent to her tone.  
"We just do patrols together, sometimes." He mumbles, a little mad at himself for feeling so obviously defensive. She hasn't even accused him of anything. Yet.  
"Just be careful." She cautions.  
"He's not a bad guy." He offers, and he mostly believes it. Natasha's face is more than a little skeptical.  
"Mhm."

Between his... everything, and her limp, they start hobbling their way down the street, weaving around the rubble. About halfway down the block he hears the familiar whisper of Tony's thrusters and they turn to see him flying towards them. There's something distinctly urgent about his posture, enough so that they both do a quick visual sweep of their surroundings, unthinking, but come up empty.

Tony lands with a thud, face plate sliding up as he strides towards them.

"Looks like we've got this cleaned up. S.H.I.E.L.D. are on their way to figure out exactly what this is, but we're pretty much good to go." Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but Peter blurts out his question first, overwhelmed by the sudden sinking feeling in his gut.  
"Where's Deadpool?" Tony's eyes find him and he gives him a sharp, too-knowing look and- yup. That's exactly what he'd been afraid of. Shit.  
"Nat, you mind giving us a minute?" It's not a question. Natasha tosses a look between them.  
"Sure." She says, clearly suspicious. "I guess S.H.I.E.L.D. will need someone to give them a quick briefing when they get here, anyways." She sighs like she's already tired with the bureaucracy of it all, not exactly a stretch, and continues making her way down the road with broken paces.

Tony grabs him by the arms, rough and clearly more than a little angry, and lifts him just enough off the ground that he can fly them back half a block to land behind the overturned van he and Natasha had been by just a few minutes ago. He pins Peter against the vehicle with a metal hand and despite his exhaustion Peter can already feel his hackles rising. Tony Stark may be the last person on earth he ever saw himself getting angry at like this, but he's exhausted, and he's got this stupid fucking- thing- inside of him, Natasha had already been down this path and Wade wasn't here and he just feels done. If ever there was a time to have a short fuse, this seems like it. Apparently, he's not the only one feeling that way.

"I'm only going to ask you this one time, and I'm not in a playful mood so you'd better tell me the damn truth. Is Deadpool the one who- did he-" Peter finds a kind of satisfaction in the way that Tony can't even get the words out.  
"Fuck me?" Peter bites out, defiant. Tony visibly flinches. "Yeah, so what?" And he knows as he says it that he probably  _ **shouldn't**_ but fuck it, the words are already out, now. Too late to take them back.  
"So what?" Tony parrots, incredulous. "'So what' is you're a damn teenager. A minor-"  
"Legal in the state of New York." Peter protests, Tony ignores him.  
"And he's-"  
"What, older? Who cares?" Peter snaps. He knows as they leave his mouth that his next words are ugly, but he can't seem to find it in himself to stop them from leaving his lips. "Don't pretend you haven't had your fair share of barely legal-"  
"A killer." Tony finishes, voice hard. His hand is pushing into Peter's chest just a bit harder, now. Probably enough to bruise. Peter can't help feeling a little lost, cause yeah, Wade is a killer. He doesn't think about it too much, hasn't had to see it up close. But he knows that he is. Has been, at least, for a very long time.

"Not anymore." Peter bites back, voice a little less sure than it had been a moment ago.  
"Oh yeah? How do you know? How can you be sure?"  
"I- he. He's trying to change."  
"And what, you believe him? You trust him? Just like that?" Tony's voice is full of disappointment, borderline disdain. "Do you have any idea how naive that is? How stupid you're being."  
"I'm not a kid!" Peter shouts, drawing on his anger for the energy to shove Tony away. It's not as easy as it should be, honestly, but he manages.  
"The hell you aren't!" Tony shouts back. "You don't understand what you're getting involved with. Have you ever seen him kill, Peter? He doesn't exactly feel bad about it." Peter hasn't, but he's not quite feeling charitable enough to admit Tony has a point, right now. He crosses his arms and tries to look like he's not doing it mainly to assuage the pain in his ribs.

"Just tell me where he is, Mr. Stark."  
"Jesus. Peter," Tony grouses. For a moment, he thinks he's going to yell again, but instead he visibly gathers whatever patience he keeps on reserve, making a conscious effort to calm down. "Come on. I just want you safe, alright?"  
"I'm not your responsibility." Peter protests.  
"You kind of are, kid. Whose name is on your lease?" And-fuck him. Seriously, this is exactly why Peter didn't want to take the damn apartment in the first place.  
"This is why I didn't want to be your fucking charity case-" Peter starts, vibrating with anger.

"You're not-"  
"Being my landlord or my... I don't know, sponsor, benefactor, or whatever, doesn't mean you get to tell me how to live!"  
"Peter, please." Tony pleads "I just meant that I'm trying to protect you."  
"You're not my father, Tony." Peter spits out, and he feels a little sick at the stricken look that crosses Tony's face, but he perseveres. "It's not your place to protect me."

"I'm not-" Tony falters, and Peter is clinging to the anger in his chest, fighting against the guilt clawing its way up his esophagus, threatening to take over. "I'm not trying to be your dad, I promise." They both know it's only half true, but Peter doesn't have it in him to call it out this time. "But deciding to make protecting people our business, whether they like it or not, is kind of what we do, kid." Tony gestures between him and the ember of anger dies out a little more. "So, yeah. It is my place. Don't like it? I don't care. As long as you're safe."

Peter deflates, the fight going out of him as quick as it came, replaced by shame and exhaustion. Tony is right, protecting people who never asked to be protected is, quite literally, the hill he's chosen to die on. He can't blame Tony for looking out for anyone in his life.

"Just tell me where he is?" Peter pleads, hoping his voice sounds stronger than it feels. It's a little comfort to see that Tony looks almost as worn out as Peter feels.  
"I can't stop you from seeing him, if you really want to. I get that. But if I tell you, I need you to swear on your life that you're going to keep your eyes open here, kid." Peter bristles a little, but tamps down the urge to get upset about it this time.  
"Mr. Stark-"  
"Peter, seriously. I know you trust him, but whatever you think you know, you haven't seen what he's capable of. Not up close. Can you just promise me that you're going to be careful, please?"  
Peter isn't sure what to say. He knows Tony is just trying to help him, and he knows he isn't wrong, exactly. Wade has done horrible things, and Peter maybe hasn't had to face them as closely as he should've before starting this thing between them, but Tony also doesn't know Wade like he does. Hasn't seen how hard he's trying to be better, he hasn't even bothered to give him a real chance.

"I'll be as careful as I need to be." He hedges, Tony sighs.  
"Peter-"  
"No, Mr. Stark. I know I haven't seen everything he's done, but you don't know him like I do. You haven't seen as much of him as I-um-" Tony balks and Peter flushes when he realizes how it sounds.  
"I just mean- you haven't seen how he's trying. I patrol with him every week, I- he's been doing better, he wants to be better. Honestly, Mr. Stark, since way before he and I... started seeing each other. He hasn't even killed anyone in months." He tries, more delicately this time. He's pretty sure he's getting closer to, well, not acceptance, but convincing Tony to at least give Wade the benefit of the doubt. Throwing everything in his face again won't help.

"How do you know that's true?"  
"Have you heard anything that says otherwise? You've said it yourself, he's not exactly subtle about it when he kills. So?" Tony huffs, and gives a reluctant assenting nod.  
"No. I haven't heard anything in a while."  
"Exactly! Just give him a chance, Mr. Stark."  
"I still don't like you two doing... this."  
"You don't have to like it." Peter is proud of how firm his voice comes out, but he still tries to soften his next words. _Non-confrontational, need to make progress_ , he reminds himself. "But I promise, he's- he's never done anything I didn't ask for." Tony narrows his eyes a bit at that.

"I meant- sorry, that sounds bad. I just mean I'm the one who started it. He's never hurt me, or forced me to do anything I didn't want to do." Well. Not really, Peter tells himself. Not like, deep down. He's not sure how Wade always knows what he wants, but so far he has, even better than he knows himself.  
"Promise me you'll tell me if something bad happens. You don't have to tell me specifics just- don't let yourself get hurt." Peter doesn't love it, but Tony sounds like it's physically hurting to concede this much, so he'll take it.  
"I promise." Tony sighs, scrubbing a tired hand over his face.  
"Fine. I left him on the Staten Island ferris wheel."  
"In one piece?" Peter asks, suspicious. Tony just shrugs.  
"He'll live." Which is no answer at all, given Wade's healing factor, and they both know it.

Regardless, Peter takes his leave, ignoring the sharp ache of his ribs. It's already started to fade but he's pretty sure it'll be a couple days before it's gone entirely. He smiles to himself as he decides to stop at a Mexican food truck he knows Wade likes, figuring that if he needs food then Wade could definitely use it, given how much he's probably had to use his healing factor, between the fight and Tony.

Either way, even if Wade doesn't technically need to eat, as he can't die, he's never seen him turn down Mexican food, or any food, so it can't hurt.

* * *

* * *

 

Once he finally gets close, it's not too hard to spot the little pile of red and black splayed out at the top of the support pole of the not quite complete ferris wheel. He can't quite hold back a groan makes his way through the small, surrounding park. The thing really is massive, because of course Tony couldn't leave him somewhere convenient. By the time he reaches the top he's panting, his ribs ache, his ass aches, everything aches. He crawls his way over the curve of the support pole and collapses onto his stomach next to Wade, who appears to be in the middle of healing an extremely alarming hole that seems to have been blasted through his midsection. Shit.

"Is this heaven or do I smell El Rey Del Taco?" Peter grins. He'd assumed Wade was still unconscious, apparently not.  
"You're definitely not in heaven." Peter pushes himself up to sit by Wade's head, one leg hanging over the edge of the support beam. He unfurls the top of the paper bag, pulling out a burrito to sink his teeth into. He knows even he can't actually metabolize it within seconds, but he feels better the moment it hits his stomach. Wade lets out a tortured groan from next to him.  
"You're not even going to wait for me?! You're just going to sit there eating that right in front of me? That's cold, Spidey. Cold as ice." Peter snorts and it takes very, very little for Wade to be prompted into a terribly off-key warbling of Foreigner's Cold As Ice. It's stupidly endearing.

When Wade finally gets his hand in the bag to start devouring the contents of it, his stomach is still looking pretty raw, but it's not leaking anything anymore, so Peter supposes that has to be good enough.

Once they finish neither of them feels particularly in a rush to move, Wade is back to laying down and Peter tucks himself into his side, Wade's arm coming over his shoulder to pull him close. Now that the adrenalin is worn off and he's managed to eat something, he's feeling achy and sated, and he's once again feeling hyper aware of the stretch inside him that had been forced to the back of his mind by the fight and again by his anger at Tony.

"So I guess papa Stark wasn't too happy when he figured us out, huh?" Wade asks. To most, his tone might seem casual enough, but there's something a little too practiced about it. Peter swallows.  
"He's not my dad. He doesn't have to like it." Peter insists, spurring his own anger on to cover his nerves. "I told him that. He really didn't want to tell me where you were."  
"I'll bet." Wade pulls him tighter, turning just enough that he can speak low into Peter's ear. "But you told him who your real daddy is, huh, baby boy?" Peter huffs out a breathless laugh. It's so cheesy, and so Wade, and it really, absolutely should not turn him on but it does. Wade must feel him squirming, because he laughs a little into Peter's hair.  
"Knew you'd be into that, baby boy."   
"So lame." Peter groans into his chest.

"Uh huh, but it does it for you anyways, so who’s the real weirdo?” Peter laughs until Wade sneaks a hand down between them, sliding it between his legs to push against the plug that’s still inside of him. For a moment Peter forgets where they are, melting into Wade instinctively with a whine. It still aches, but his body has grown used to the stretch. Wade pushes harder and Peter gasps, caught up in the stretch pushing further into him until he hears a car horn blare in the distance, going stiff all over.

“Not here.” Wade groans when he says it, but pulls his hand back. He sits up with a sigh, dragging Peter with him.

“Alright, baby boy. We better get going, I’m not feeling especially patient.” Peter can tell he means it and it makes him a little giddy. He’s not exactly used to being wanted this much, or at all. Not yet. It makes him feel a bit strange. Definitely good, kind of sexy, though that feels embarrassing to admit even to himself. A new kind of confident.

 

* * *

* * *

As it turns out, they don’t make it all that far. Wade’s been pretty handsy, not especially unusual, but he's been handsy with more clear intent than normal, for sure, as they've made their way through the park and down a few blocks, clearly impatient to get back to Peter’s so they can fuck themselves stupid. Peter can't say he's feeling all that different. Still, he will admit he was naive enough to think they would make it back to his apartment. Back to Manhattan, at the very least.

Wade grabs him around the waist, drags him into a narrow alleyway and Peter’s pulse skyrockets. The thought of making-out with Wade, here, in public, as Spider-Man, is both terrifying. By the time Wade shoves him up against the brick hard enough that the breath is punched from his lungs, he’s shaking with the adrenalin of it. Wade reaches out and brings his hands up, dragging his mask up over his nose before doing the same to his own. Peter expects to be kissed and he reaches out to wrap his arms around Wade’s shoulders when the other man steps in close enough to share breath, but instead he’s pinned to the wall with one hand, forceful enough to make him feel he can’t quite fill his lungs, as the other slips down to massage him through his costume.

“Wade- oh.” Peter’s head slips forward with a whimper, coming to rest on his shoulder as Wade moves in close to mouth at his neck.  
“I’ve got you, baby boy.” Wade speaks into his ear before returning to bite at his neck. There’s shocks of pain flitting out over the tendons where he sinks his teeth in, and Peter can’t help grinding up into Wade’s palm. The cup in his pants is just slightly flexible, and Wade gives him pressure, but it’s not enough. It feels like a tease, a torture, when he grinds up and it’s just enough to get him hard but nowhere close to enough to get him off.

“Wade,” He cries out, not thinking. “I need more.”  
“Hmm.” Wade breaths into his neck. “You think that’s a good idea, sweetheart?”  
“No.” He replies, a little pitiful. Wade chuckles into his neck, before his hands move to Peter’s ass and he lifts him up, pushing forward enough that Peter is pinned to the wall by his weight. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist and nearly chokes on his own tongue as pleasure swells sudden and intense inside of him when Wade pushes his hard cock up against Peter’s ass, nudging the plug that's still inside of him right up against his sweet spot.

"Fuck!" Peter moans. Wade keeps pushing up against him, dragging his cock across his ass so fucking slow and hard it's agonizing that he can't just fuck him right here, right now, biting and sucking at his throat.  
"Careful, Spidey, you've got a reputation to uphold. Can't be caught using such filthy language, can you baby boy?" Peter's face heats. There's a lot of things he can't be caught doing right now, and yet here he is. He's pretty sure he may be making one of those mistakes the universe likes to punish him for, but he just feels too damn good to stop. Just a little too reckless.

He pushes down to grind against Wade's next thrust and frissons of pleasure burn him from the inside out, head falling back, mouth open in a wordless cry. They keep going like that, dry humping against the wall like- well, teenagers, until Peter is a frantic mess. His insides feel like they've been rubbed raw, having this thing inside of him so long, and no matter what he does he just can't get enough sensation through the suit to get off. His vision is beginning to blur with tears threatening to spill over, trapped by the mask.

Wade finally, finally brings his head up to kiss Peter. It's not gentle, he bites at his lips, Peter cries out when he nips him hard enough to draw blood and Wade grins into the kiss. He pulls back, just a little, bringing a gloved hand up to caress Peter's jaw and Peter pushes into it.  
"Can you get off like this?" Peter shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak when he's only barely holding back a sob, so desperate but not sure what to ask for, what options they have. He's definitely not getting naked in this alleyway.

Wade grins again, and before Peter can wonder what it means the fingers on his jaw catch the edge of his mask and- it's gone. It's so shocking that it takes a moment for his brain to catch up with the situation, and when he does his heart-rate kicks into overdrive and he falls into an immediate state of panicked arousal.  
"Wade?" He asks, and his voice sounds- scared. He's startled to hear it. He's not sure he even realized he was feeling it but now fear and panic are beginning to crawl up his spine and take hold of his heart.  
"Shhh," Wade soothes. "Just keep goin, baby."

"No," Peter's senses finally seem to come online and he pushes at Wade's shoulders, not full strength but enough to get the point across. "No, no, Wade, we can't-"  
"Says who?" Wade asks, and- fuck. He's still pushing up against Peter and it's almost worse now, the panic amplifying every sensation in his body and a sob wracks through Peter. He's feeling seriously overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations and emotions.  
"Wade, Please. We can't do this-"  
"Who's gonna stop us, baby boy? I think we both know you'd already have gotten away if you really wanted to."

Peter can't stop his face from crumpling at that. The shame burns his face and when he tries to hide it in Wade's throat the other man's hand comes up to grip his throat, pinning his head to the wall.  
"Just keep going, sweetheart." His tone is sweet, but there is no mistaking the fact that it's not a request, or suggestion. It's what's happening.

Peter tries his best to keep quiet, rolling his hips down to meet Wade's increasingly rough thrusts with choked off sobs. With his face bare, like this, where anyone could come down the alley and find them, he somehow feels more exposed than ever, even when he'd been spread open over Wade's lap. It makes arousal burn hot in his gut and he feels sick for it. Sick with himself. This should send him running, but instead here he is. Rutting against Wade's hard, clothed cock in a dirty alley.

Peter is already riding the edge of orgasm when Wade's hands drop to his hips to pull him down especially hard, grinding up into him and tipping him past the point of no return. Anything left of Peter's composure shatters when orgasm rolls over him. He falls forward, crying into Wade's shoulder as he writhes down against him, hips twitching and rolling wildly.

He's tired, ashamed, relieved when it comes to an end. He can put his mask on, go back home, and face what he's done. Or, well, he expects to. He's barely given a moment to breathe before Wade is stepping back, not giving him any chance to find his footing before he pushes him to the side and shoves him over, kicking his legs out from under him so he falls to his knees on the dirty pavement, gloved hands scrambling to stop him from falling.

Wade kneels behind him and Peter immediately tries to jump up but with his senses dulled and Wade's system in overdrive, he's faster. He catches him by the back of the neck and shoves his face into the ground.  
"Wade, Wade, please-" He chokes out, and- yeah. He's crying now, really, truly crying. His hands are pushing against the ground, trying to push himself up, but Wade is stronger than he truly realized and Peter finds himself unable to escape his grip.  
"Sorry, sweetheart." Wade says, and he doesn't sound all that sorry at all. "Once this train has left the station, it doesn't go back. One-way trips only, baby boy."

Wade's free hand comes up to wrap around his chest, feeling around until he finds the switch that lets his suit relax and fall open a the neck. Peter does his best not to hyperventilate. He feels like he might throw up, but when Wade's hand comes around from his chest to his back and slides his suit over his shoulders and down, just enough to expose the curve of his ass, he feels his cock twitch to life and he hates himself for it.

If he likes something like this, on any level, he must deserve to be degraded, violated, like Wade is about to.

Wade yanks the plug from his ass with no warning or ceremony and Peter sobs into the ground with the hurt and humiliation of it. Wade groans behind him and his hand tightens around the back of Peter's throat.  
"That's it, baby boy, cry for daddy." Peter's pretty sure he couldn't stop if he wanted to.  
"Please, Wade-" Wade gives Peter's neck a dizzyingly painful squeeze.  
"Try again, sweetheart."  
"P-please, Daddy." Peter manages to stutter out through the pain. "If someone finds us, my without my mask- like this-" Wade sighs the sigh of the heavily put upon behind him.  
"Maybe, if you tell me how bad you want this, I'll give you back the mask. How does that sound?"

Another sob wracks through Peter's body, there's no convincing Wade not to do this, would he rather someone come across Spider-Man or Peter Parker getting fucked into the filthy ground of some back alley by Deadpool? He supposes at least one of those options keeps his identity a secret, even if it does ruin his reputation as a hero. And shred any last piece of dignity he'd been clinging to.  
"It-it sounds good, Daddy." Peter manages, and Wade's hand finally loosens, just a little.  
"Good, I knew you'd be a good boy. You always are." Despite himself, Peter feels a desperate arousal coiling tight in his abdomen when Wade speaks. The words come to him almost too easily, when he starts.  
"Please, please, daddy. I miss your cock. All day-" He's cut off by a stuttering breath when he hears the click of Wade's belt which allows his suit to come loose.  
"All day I had that plug inside me and I just-I just wanted it to be you. It's all I could think about." It's not a lie. Every twinge he'd felt, he'd thought mournfully of how much better it felt to have Wade inside him, of how he wouldn't even need to be stretched later, with the plug inside of him, Wade would be able to fuck him so easy.

"I'll do anything, I jus need you to fuck me, Daddy. I'll be so good for you. I promise, please, please I need it so bad." Wade's cock comes to rest over the crease of his ass and Peter can't help the small moan that escapes him, a shiver breaking out over his body. Even at a time like this, the hot weight of Wade against him is intoxicating. His hole is aching, painful and rubbed raw, but he feels devastatingly empty.

"I know you will, baby boy." Wade says, voice warm. "That's why you're here." The truth of it makes Peter tremble and he closes his eyes against his tears when he gives into the urge to rub back against Wade's cock, making the older man groan.  
"Alright, I guess you've earned it, sweetheart." Peter lets out a sigh of relief, but it's cut short when he finds, his mouth stuffed full with crushed fabric and- fuck. His mask. He tries to bring a hand up to his mouth but Wade's free hand swiftly catches his wrists and wrenches his arms back, forcing his back into a painfully severe bow and making Peter cry out once again in pain.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." He warns, voice dangerous. "If you remember correctly, I only said I'd give you back the mask, I never said how. Hardly my fault if you weren't paying attention, baby boy." He sighs, paying no attention to the way Peter is shaking from force of Wade's grip. "Besides, I'm really doing you a favour here, Spidey. If you don't want anyone to find you, I think you're going to need a little help keeping quiet. You're such a slut you can't even keep quiet when you're crying into the ground, sweetheart. Which, don't get me wrong, I love that about you, but it's not exactly going to help your situation if you don't want anyone to find us, now is it?"

Peter sobs into the mask and Wade seems to take it as affirmation. Which, he's not wrong. It's awful, but he's not wrong.

Wade shifts behind him and there's a split second where he removes his hand from Peter's neck and he thinks he's escaped that particular form of humiliation but Wade's heavy, booted foot comes forward to crush his cheek into the ground and Peter barely has time to register the painful scrape of his cheek against pavement before Wade's cock is pushing past his sore, stretched out ring of muscle and he's slamming into him, not a moment of gentleness to easy him into it.

Peter begins sobbing freely, then. Crying and coughing around the mask as his whole body shakes with waves of pain and pleasure.

Wade wastes no time setting a truly brutal pace, hitting his sweet spot every time, hard enough that it hurts more than it feels good but at this point Peter is having so much trouble untangling the two that he doesn't think it matters, anymore. He's tangentially aware of the fact that Wade is keeping up a steady stream of low moans and filthy praise. Even though he can't quite manage to focus in on it with his neck strained as it is and his entire body lit up with overstimulated nerves, the knowledge make heat rise inside of him.

Wade's right, this is why he's here. He's always good for him, always going to be good for him, even when it's like this. Even when he's scared and it hurts because he knows that's exactly how Wade signed up for. On some level, that's exactly why he sought him out, he thinks. He finally, finally lets the pain push his mind into a state of blissful quiet. Working himself back onto Wade's cock, as much as he's capable of, which admittedly isn't very, at the moment, but it feels good to try. He chases the pain inside of him and it makes him shiver and moan to focus on how totally Wade is dominating him. How under his control he is. 

Wade is so much stronger than he realized, and he wonders, distantly, if that was something he hid from Peter deliberately or incidentally. It doesn't matter, truthfully. He's pretty sure he'd have ended up here, either way. Right where Wade wanted him. Right where he wanted to be. Ground into the dirt for the older man's pleasure and lucky enough to find his own.

By the time Wade shifts forward to lean close to his face and speak to him, voice low, Peter is aching with the need to come again.  
"If I let your hands go, are you gonna be good for me, sweetheart?" Peter moans, as filthy as he can manage with the mask muffling the sound.  
"Good boy." Wade praises, shifting back and releasing Peter's wrists. He groans with the relief of it, hands falling to the side, shifting over the ground awkwardly without having regained feeling or function yet.

He has a moment to breathe when Wade's boot comes off his face, moving back as Wade readjusts and Peter works his jaw around the mask with a groan, not daring to actually remove his face from the ground. He manages to pull his arms up in front of him, rolling his face to the ground entirely, forehead pushed against his forearms. For a moment, he just focuses on deep breaths through his nose, hyper aware of the coolness of the pavement below him and the ache of his neck finally allowed to move.

Before he can get too relaxed, if that's possible in this position, Wade leans over and wrenches him up painfully by the hair, shaky, stinging hands struggling to find purchase on the ground. His head is almost leant back against Wade's shoulder, most of Wade's weight resting on him with only Peter's shaky arms holding them back.

It takes him a moment to focus enough that he notices where Wade's other hand is, which is, of course, held out in front of them pointing his camera straight at them.  
"Say cheese." Wade instructs, half giddy and half vicious, as he bites down on the lobe of Peter's ear. Peter's vision goes blurry and his eyes sting with new tears, rolling back because he can't bring himself to focus on the camera.  
"Aww, no smile for daddy?" Wade asks, voice carrying a nasty undercurrent. "That's not very nice." He admonishes. "But we can worry about teaching you some manners later, baby boy. This one's a video anyways." Peter sobs around the mask in his mouth.

Wade grunts in frustration, before reaching over with the hand that's holding the phone, ripping the mask out of his mouth, and readjusting the phone so they're in view again.

It's impossible, now, to hide the sobs and stuttering breaths that wrack his body.  
"Eyes forward, sweetheart." Wade growls into his ear. "Tell me how it feels."  
"It hurts." Peter cries. "I've already- I can't finish." He sobs out.  
"Shh, baby boy. You're gonna finish, however long it takes." More sobs shake his frame at Wade's words.  
"I-I-" He can't quite get the words out, isn't even sure what he's trying to say. Coherent thought has abandoned him.  
"Mhmm," Wade soothes. "Go on, sweetheart. Let it out."

"I need it." He sobs. "Harder, daddy. More. Please." Wade drops his head to Peter's shoulder with a groan.  
"Honestly, baby boy, just when I think you can't get any better. Jesus christ." He lets the phone fall to the ground, pushes back on his knees, grabbing Peter by the waist with one hand and using the other to pull him back by his hair until his arms are stretched all the way out, trying to support himself, and starts fucking up into Peter hard enough that his worn knees are scraping over the pavement with every thrust.

Wade is exerting grunts with the force of every thrust and Peter is a mess of sobs and moans he can't hold in now that his mask is lying on the dirty ground in front of him.

He fucks him until he's dizzy with it, head spinning and pain spurring on his impending more than pleasure, at this point. He can feel it building in his gut, he's finally, finally on the cusp of orgasm, just a moment more- if he can just-fuck.

Wade pulls out.

Peter can't help the shocked cry that leaves him at the sudden emptiness, but he has no time to mourn it. Wade is grabbing the phone and shoving him back against the wall by his neck, bare ass and back scraping over the wall and ground. He points the camera at him and thrusts his cock in his face.  
"Moneyshot, baby boy, make it happen." Peter is crying, long since having lost the control to stop himself, and he wonders if it will hide the burn of shame across his cheeks, one of which is definitely wet with blood.

He reaches up with shaking hands to grip Wade's cock, doing his best keep his fists tight and look up at the camera through watery eyes. He can't make himself smile, but he doesn't think that's what Wade wants right now, anyways. Through hiccuping breaths, he leans forward to lap at the precome dripping from the head of Wade's cock, looking to Wade for approval as he does it. Wade says nothing, so he hopes it's okay and leans in to suck lightly at the head. He won't risk sucking him down entirely, he knows Wade wants to come on his face, but he craves the weight of him in his mouth. He wonders if he's sick for finding the feel of it comforting.

Wade shoves him back, a string of saliva and precome clings to his lips and Wade's cock for a moment, it breaks when Wade smacks him hard across the face, sharp pain flaring across his already torn cheek. He falls to the side with the force of it, breathing heavy and sobbing out again at the sharp current of arousal that runs through his veins. Wade drags him upright again by the hair, only to smack him again, even harder.

This time, when Peter is dragged upright, he can taste copper on his mouth, feel blood dripping from his lips.  
"Did I say you could stop?" Wade growls.  
"I'm sor-" Fuck. Wade's hand cuts sharp across his face again, ears ringing to the point of disorientation and the entire side of his face throbbing in pain. He's pretty sure Wade's fist is the only thing keeping him from toppling over when he fumbles his hands back up to his cock.

It doesn't take long before Wade is throbbing and twitching in his hands, painting Peter's face with come. He stares up at the phone through it, he can't quite keep his focus, but he tries his best. He slips his tongue out to lick some of the come and blood off his lips, unthinking, and Wade groans.

When he's finished, Peter's hands drop and he slips his spent cock into his mouth, which Peter opens easily.

"Get me all nice and clean, sweetheart, and maybe I'll let you come." Peter moans obediently and suckles at his cock. While he does, Wade drags the thumb of his free hand across Peter's cheekbone, rubbing the come and blood together, into his skin, with a groan.

When he's finally, completely done with him, he pulls out of Peter's mouth with a small sigh, and steps back. Wiping his hand in Peter's hair. He tucks himself away and fixes his belt, bringing his uniform together again.

For a moment, Peter's heart-rate picks up, worried that Wade isn't going to let him come after-all, but then Wade steps back towards him.  
"Don't think I forgot about you, baby boy. I could never." His voice is both sweet and cruel, and Peter can't hold back.  
"Please." He chokes out. There's nothing else he can say, nothing else he can think, at this point.

Deadpool nods, and-oh. Oh, god. He pushes his boot into Peter's crotch, through his loose uniform, and Peter gasps out a sob.  
"Oh god- W-Daddy." Peter corrects.  
"Go on, sweetheart." Wade urges. He sounds like he might be laughing, and fresh humiliation burns somewhere in the back of his mind, but it takes a back seat to the desperate arousal fraying his nerves.

It takes pitifully little time for his orgasm to finally, finally wash over him. He cries through it, rutting against Wade's boot, covered in come and blood and dirt. So far, he hasn't felt quite so used as this. The sensation is a new one, not entirely unpleasant, but not entirely pleasant, either.

When he's finished he goes boneless, still shivering from exhaustion and adrenalin, wondering distantly how he's going to get himself home in this state, but Wade has him covered, apparently. He crouches down to slip Peter's mask back over his head, not bothering to clean him up first, and slips an arm around his shoulder to haul him up and get his uniform on properly again.

"Think you can walk, baby boy?" Peter groans. He feels so fucked out he could be on another planet, but physically he's managed worse. He lets himself slump forward into Wade's arms.  
"If you give me a few minutes I can swing us home."

 

* * *

* * *

When they get back to Peter's apartment, Wade feels like a different person, almost. Even though he could do it himself, Wade insists on helping him bathe, without taking it any further, just gentle hands running over his skin and through his hair until he's clean.

Peter passes out easy once he's out of the bath, only to find that Wade has cooked for him, which- Peter is pretty sure he is not the one that put any of that food in his fridge, and he has no idea when Wade managed to slip away to fill it seeing as they've hardly been apart the last few days, but it makes something melt inside his chest that he didn't realize had gone cold, assuaging the fears he hadn't even known he'd developed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it's almost 7 in the morning. There's light outside. I literally wrote all night. I need to adopt better writing habits, send help. I'll maybe revise this a little more once I've slept, hope it was fun ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it's finally up. I'm really sorry, I've had a difficult few weeks and the will to write (or be creative in general) was just not there. You've all been very lovely and patient and I appreciate that like crazy ♥♥
> 
> _P.S. here's[an example](https://www.extremerestraints.com/the-premium-leather-strap-on-harness.html) of the harness Wade uses and here's [an example](https://www.extremerestraints.com/black-doggy-style-spreader-bar-kit-with-cuffs.html) of the spreader bar he uses on Peter._  
>   
>  This chapter fills requests for [fisting](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171415905726/two-words-anal-fisting-god-i-have-a-huge-kink) and [double penetration](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171415665521/ok-so-wade-introducing-peter-to-double) ♥

For the first time in recent memory, Peter is having a lazy Sunday.

Days off aren't exactly easy to come by as a superhero, so the fact that he and Wade both have some time to spare is more than enough to make him happy.

He's got the police scanner on low in the background, but nothing comes up that the police can't handle, a day full of misdemeanour and petty crime. Peter's personal theory is that it's honestly just too hot out for the effort it takes to commit a serious crime. Too hot for much of anything that requires leaving home. He'll admit he may be biased since his air conditioning unit is broken, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't pleased to have an excuse to stay in with Wade. It's at least twenty percent of the reason he doesn't call his 'landlord' about getting his air conditioner replaced, the other eighty percent being, well, everything. He has to admit that the look on Tony's face if he found them lounging around as they are would be pretty priceless. Not worth the scarring mortification, but worth it.

So, Wade is leant back on his couch with his feet up on the rickety coffee table, shirtless but with jeans on still, which makes Peter think he's crazy. Or, more crazy, anyways, and Peter is sprawled out on his back on the couch, head in Wade's lap with one arm flung out above him, resting on the armrest with Wade's thumb rubbing at his wrist, the other hanging lazily off the couch where his knees are.

He's also naked, and the overexposure is making him a little antsy. Despite everything they've done together, they've never just been naked together when it didn't immediately precede or follow sex. Wade has barely looked at him since they landed on the couch, eyes focused on the small TV across from them, and Peter's not sure if that's making the restless itch under his skin better or worse that Wade has hardly acknowledged his presence, much less the fact that he is very urgently naked and a teenager. He can't quite manage to shake the burn from his cheeks. He's got to do something.

Peter can't help smiling to himself as he turns his head to the side, just slightly, enough to crane his neck and mouth at the seam of Wade's jeans. The denim is rough against his lips and he's pretty sure he can smell Wade through the jeans, an excited shiver makes its way down his spine. He whines a little to grab Wade's attention and bites at the flap of denim covering the zipper. The hand that's been petting through his hair pulls him back and Wade grins down at him.

"Want something, baby boy?" Peter writhes on his lap, just a little, tugging against the hand in his hair. He does his best to turn his smile into a pout, though it's hard not to let the corners of his mouth pull up, and gives Wade the doe eyes that tend to get him what he wants, despite being more than a little ridiculous.  
"Pleeeease." He whines. Wade laughs and Peter huffs, frustrated with waiting and brings his hands in to work Wade's jeans open. He pulls roughly at the button until it tears off, oops, and figures now that they're already torn there's no point being careful with the zipper, either. To his delight, Wade has gone commando. He gets as far as pulling Wade's cock out, appreciating the soft, warm weight of it, before Wade lets go of his hair to grab his wrists instead, pulling his hands away.  
"Wade, come on." Peter's head falls back with a whine. Wade's still grinning down at him and he reaches down to rub the thumb of his free hand over the still-raw skin of Peter's cheek, then gives him a sharp pinch.

"Get on your knees." He's shoving at Peter roughly as he says it, and Peter complies happily. Excitedly, even. He slides off the couch to kneel between Wade's legs, hands on his knees and eyes flitting eagerly between Wade's face and his cock. Wade stands and for a moment his heart rate picks up, excited at the idea of Wade fucking his face again, but instead the other man walks away, cock still out with his jeans drooping low, and Peter gapes.  
"What- why?" He stammers, reconciling his excitement from a moment ago with the fact that apparently whatever sad excuse for food is lingering in Peter's kitchen is more pressing to Wade than getting his cock sucked. It's both baffling and a little hurtful, if he's honest.

Wade just laughs at him as he digs through Peter's fridge.

"Don't worry, sweetcheeks, this'll only take a minute. You're not the only one who's hungry, you know." Peter can't help rolling his eyes, despite the way his cheeks colour. Wade finally makes a triumphant noise, pulling out some questionable Chinese food leftovers, and turns to dig a chopsticks out of the utensil drawer.  
"Are you seriously going to eat leftovers while I suck you off?" Peter complains, indignant. Wade turns to look at him, demeanour shifting ever so slightly, slipping into something that feels a little dangerous.  
"You gonna try and stop me, baby boy?" He challenges. Shame stings at his cheeks, and he drops Wade's gaze.  
"No."

Just like that, Wade's intensity is gone and he's happily dumping his takeout onto one of Peter's precious few clean plates and making his way back to the couch, plate and chopsticks in hand, while Peter tries to focus on the eager curl of excitement in his chest, rather than the shame creeping up the back of his neck. Sometimes he wishes he could say no to Wade, that whatever part of him craves being treated like this would just- not, but either way, no use thinking about it now. This is hardly the worst of what Wade has done to him, for him,so far.

His legs brush Peter's bare skin as he passes and it makes him shiver. Wade gets comfortable on the sofa, sinking down and scooting forward just enough that Peter will be able to reach his cock, though not quite comfortably.

He leans forward, placing the plate on the table behind Peter's head, then pulls back and runs a hand through Peter's hair. He looks up at Wade, rolling an anxious lip between his teeth. Wade brings his hand down to run a finger over the seam of his lips and Peter opens his mouth for him. Wade grins, but pulls his hand away, much to Peter's dismay, he pouts when Wade wags a finger at him.

"Keep that mouth open, baby boy." Wade says, low and a little teasing. Thrill shoots through Peter at the sound of it, he's more than ready to finally get started. He drops his mouth open again, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he does, tongue darting out to wet it.

"You're not going to move unless I tell you to, understood?" He nods, eager. "Good." Wade grins. "If you do well, I'm gonna do something real special for you later." The smooth promise in Wade's voice makes Peter melt.

He wants to do good for Wade, whatever he wants from him.

Wade wraps one hand around his still soft cock, and brings the other to the back of Peter's head, pulling him forward until he can slip himself into his mouth. Peter inhales deeply, savouring the musk that's always so specific to being this close to Wade, having him in his mouth, it makes warm pleasure trickle down his spine, pooling in his stomach. Peter sighs as Wade pushes in deeper, enjoying the stretch of his lips and the hot weight on his tongue.

He stops when the tip of his cock is brushing the back of Peter's throat, leaving Peter just barely able to breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles to supress the urge to gag.

Above him, Wade sighs contentedly and Peter looks up at him through watery eyes. He grins down and brings his hands up to run through Peter's hair again. The gesture is uncharacteristically sweet, considering how they normally get up to these things.

"Doing good so far, baby boy." Peter preens, he wants to press into Wade's touch, but he's wary of moving.

Wade's hands slip away and Peter is more than a little confused. Confused and impatient. When Wade reaches behind him he lets out a small whine around Wade's cock before it fades into a choked off gurgle as Wade's cock slips just far enough to stop him from breathing.

Then he leans back, plate in hand as Peter struggles to regain his breath around the cock in his mouth without moving, tears falling from the corners of his eyes.

Peter is not less confused when Wade proceeds to ignore him entirely, leaving Peter to just- sit there. With Wade's cock in his mouth as the older man goes to town on his leftover Chinese food. At this point, he looks far more enraptured with the food on his plate than he does with Peter on his cock, it makes Peter hurt. Makes him want to show Wade what he can do, suck him down and let him fuck his face until he's all Wade gives a shit about, but he's been told not to move, and so he listens. 

He's not sure how long it goes on. By the time Wade's finished his food Peter's jaw is beginning to ache. He's expecting him to pull Peter off of his cock when he puts the plate down, but he doesn't even look at him, just fixes his attention back on the tv in front of him. Peter stays like that for at least long enough to hear the end credits role, fighting all instinct to clench his jaw, end the building pain cutting through the joints of it. 

By the time finally pulls Peter off his cock his jaw is trembling with the ache. Wade cups his face, massaging his thumbs into the joints of Peter's Jaw, it's somehow both relieving and more painful than before.

"You did so good, baby boy, you didn't move a muscle. You really were made for my cock, weren't you?" Wade prompts, voice low.  
"Yes." Peter agrees, though it hurts to speak. "I was, I really, really was. Please, give it to me for real, I need you to fuck me, Wade." Wade grins and pulls him up, just enough that wade can lean down to meet his mouth, rough and unforgiving of Peter's sore jaw, as consuming as ever.

"Don't worry, babe." Wade speaks against his mouth. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll feel it all week, even with those super special spidey healing powers." Peter groans and presses himself enthusiastically against Wade.  
"So eager." Wade teases between kisses.  
"I am." Peter breathes. "I really, really am. Come on- Wade." Wade shushes him, pulling back to press a finger to his lips. He can't help cracking a smile at Peter's disgruntled sigh.  
"Get on the bed. Face down, ass up baby boy."

Peter is practically vibrating with eagerness as he complies. His heart is already pounding in his chest, and it's almost dizzying how bad he wants it. He'd be more embarrassed but he feels like as a teenager he's allowed to be a little overexcited.

Peter throws himself onto the bed and keeps his ass up in the air, just as Wade asked. A dull ache rises in his knees, still sore from the other day, and he buries his heated face in the sheets to hide the flush as he listens to Wade rummaging around for whatever he's got in store. Heat pools in his gut as he spreads his legs wide, putting himself on full display for Wade. He can't stop the embarrassed flush from spreading hot down his neck and chest as he does it, but the pleased groan that comes from across the room has him biting a grin into the sheets. Giddy arousal is building in his chest and his heart is pounding with it.

He finally, finally feels the mattress dip with Wade's weight and lets a shiver run through him as the older man runs a hand down his back, just enough to push him into a slightly deeper stretch, he leans into it, luxuriating in the sharp feel.

Wade's hand gives his nape a brief, strong squeeze that makes Peter sigh, then Peter turns his head to the side, still resting against the mattress, just enough that he can get a glimpse of what Wade is doing. He's got a small duffle bag sitting next to him on the bag, and from it he retrieves a large, black bar with what look like shackles hanging off it it. Peter exhales hard.

"What-"  
"Shhh," Wade cuts him off. "Don't worry about it, baby boy. Daddy's gonna take good care of you, I promise. You've just gotta do one thing for me." Wade's not looking at him, but his voice is stern.  
"Alright, anything." Peter agrees, voice nearly frantic with want, spurred on by the exciting uncertainty of what Wade is about to do to him.  
"Since they don't make sex toys for superheroes, I'm gonna need you to try really hard to not break these chains, baby boy."  
"I won't." Peter promises. He's still not certain what Wade plans to restrain him for, exactly, but he just wants to get on with it. Be touched, be fucked, anything. He's been hard since he got Wade in his mouth.  
"That's my boy!" Wade gives his ass a small pinch and Peter laughs into the sheets.  
"Come on," He urges. "Get a move- on." Wade grabs his wrists mid-sentence, pulling them back to meet his ankles as Peter lets out a breathless laugh.

Wade lays the bar between Peter's spread legs and wraps the innermost leather restraints around his ankles. Even knowing he could break them, it definitely thrills him to be at Wade's mercy, like this. Wade grabs his wrists to start buckling them into the second set of restraints and he distantly wonders if it's possible, or even vaguely forgivable, to get his hands on something that might actually hold him in the not too distant future.

The last restraint is buckled into place and Wade lights up his nerves, dragging rough hands up the inside of his thighs to knead his ass. A delicious tickle of arousal rolls through him, settling low in his gut with an almost-urgent pressure. When Wade tugs, just a little, at Peter's exposed hole he turns his face into the mattress, letting out a sharp breath as he pushes back as far as the restraints will allow. He draws a low groan from Wade.

"Christ. You're downright obscene, baby boy. No one should look this good from this angle." Peter smiles into the mattress before turning to the side enough to speak without it muffling his words.  
"Clearly not good e-enough if you're still talking." He can't help the stutter that escapes him when Wade pulls at him a little harder, the older man just laughs behind him.  
"As if anything could stop me from talking, sweetheart." He's probably right, but any clever remark Peter wants to throw back at him is cut short when Wade pops a finger into him without warning. There's no burn, but it just intensifies Peter's ache, makes him want for more.  
"Wade, come on," He pleads. "Hurry up." Wade laughs at him again. When he pulls out his finger Peter cries out in protest, but Wade doesn't acknowledge it. He allows himself to pout into the sheets, relieved when he hears the rustling of the bag next to Wade followed by the pop of a plastic cap.

Wade grabs him again, one hand pulling his cheek to the side to make sure he is truly, fully exposed. Three rough, slick fingers are shoved into him without warning and Peter tenses immediately, head flying up as he cries out at the unexpected burn. He manages to stop himself from pulling too hard against the restraints in shock, and he's a little impressed with himself for managing to think past the sharp pain at the centre of him.

Releasing his ass, Wade's hand comes forward to shove Peter's head back down into the mattress, fisting in his hair as he begins pumping his fingers into him. He can feel the tip of Wade's cock brush the back of his leg and the pain lancing across his scalp combined with the anticipation of Wade's cock on his skin pushes him to start leaking out precome.

The pain of the stretch is already beginning to lessen, so Peter does his best to push back onto Wade's fingers, whispering quiet pleas into the mattress for Wade to fill him up properly before it fades entirely. He loves it when Wade makes sure it hurts enough that he can feel him for hours, days, even. An impossible to ignore reminder of who he belongs to. Wade pumps his fingers steadily, crooking his fingers every time he reaches Peter's rim to tug at him, just a little too painful to breathe through easily. Peter's pretty sure his pleas have gotten louder, but then again he's also pretty sure Wade's encouraging him, so he can't bring himself to worry about it.

When he feels Wade slip his pink in alongside the other fingers he bites down on the sheets, hard. The stretch is so much, so, so much. Wade keeps pushing in, relentless through the building pressure in Peter's gut and burn inside of him. He's pushing in to the knuckle, not quite enough to push them entirely past the right ring of muscle, but enough to stretch it as far as he can manage every time.

It's torture, Peter's body is torn between pushing back and pulling away and his breaths come out in small, erratic gasps. Wade doesn't give him much chance to get used to it, instead pushing into Peter as far as he can, knuckles and all, and the tears begin to fall.

Peter is stretched so wide, but he feels so, so empty inside. His asshole burns with the unbearable, overwhelming pain of Wade's hand, but inside his fingers thin and end too soon for him. He needs for Wade to fuck him properly.  
"More." Peter sobs out, Wade's hand tightens in his hair hard enough he's sure it's bruising the scalp. "More, Wade, please."  
"You asked for it, baby boy." Wade's voice sounds like he might be laughing at Peter, still, a little darker this time.

When Peter feels Wade's thumb slip up the inside of his palm to join the rest of his fingers, just barely, Peter registers what he's about to do. He goes stiff all over, and immediately recoils from Wade's hand at the pain caused by clenching down too hard.

"Be good." Wade growls and, without giving Peter time to adjust, pushes hard against him until the knuckle of his thumb is resting at his rim, stretching him to the point of near-overwhelming pain.  
"Wade!" He sobs into the sheets, not even sure what he wants to say. "Wade, I need-" Peter cuts himself off when Wade pushes just a little further, slipping his last knuckle in and knocking the breath from his lungs. He feels Wade's hand slip in deeper, almost involuntary, body sucking him in so his asshole can squeeze tight around the slimmer part of his hand. He feels like he's choking on it.

Wade wiggles his fingers inside of him and Peter shakes harder, making a wounded noise. Wade's hand is inside him, his entire, actual hand. It's a strange, overwhelming thought. It feels both hugely invasive and hugely intimate. The combined feelings of warmth and disgust are warring heavy in his chest but they don't get a chance to settle there. Wade begins massaging the bundle of nerves that make him melt and Peter falls apart.

Crying into the mattress, his orgasm is almost a shock after spending so long on the edge of it. He doesn't breathe, too overcome with sensation to function properly, and he's certain that the only reason he manages to avoid snapping his restraints is because he can't do much more than shake.

When he's finished, panting into the mattress and finally, finally relaxing around Wade's hand, the older man begins to curl his fingers inside of him, stretching him further inside as he slowly forms a fist inside of Peter.

He can't imagine how he must look. Bound and half-collapsed with his ass in the air and Wade's fist up his ass. He tells himself the tears that have begun to flow faster in the aftermath of his orgasm are only that of pain.

Wade sinks his fist further into him, far enough that the bump of his wrist slips past, nearly effortless, and Peter is unable to do much more than shiver as his heart rattles in his chest.

His fist begins to pull back and Peter whimpers. The stretch of him is no less painful the second time, but the sharp pain only seems to keep Peter in his post-orgasm haze longer, he's unable to think straight through the strength of it.

Wade continues to pull back and push into him, slow at first, from the noises he's making behind Peter he's savouring the site as he goes, and it's a small mercy. Gradually, though, he begins picking up speed. It's impossible for the pain to receed with the quickening frequency of Wade's thrusts, loosening him up but keeping him right on the edge of nearly too painful a stretch for longer than Peter can grasp.

Limp and shivering in a haze of pain and pleasure, Peter doesn't realize Wade is finally pulling away until his knuckles slip out of Peter completely and his other hand finally releases his hair, scalp aching. He lets out a deep, wet sigh, though his body goes lax, relieved, something ugly clenches in his chest as he feels more empty than he ever has.

Something about this feels different, and the void Wade has left inside of him makes it harder and harder to chase away the sick feelings creeping their way up his chest.

He listens to Wade rustling through the bag at his side, presumably for the key to Peter's restraints, and wills himself not to weep now that he can no longer ignore the feelings behind it.

He is, mercifully, torn from his failed efforts when he hears the pop of the lube again and has to wonder what Wade is up to. He tilts his head enough to see Wade fastening a black, leather harness around him and he's so shocked by the large, purple dildo, held in place just above Wade's own, only slightly larger, cock that it doesn't dawn on him what Wade plans to do to him until Wade is slicking up both the silicone cock and his own.

Hiccuping sobs begin to escape him, despite his best efforts to stifle them, and Wade looks up at him with a sympathetic smile, reaching out with the hand that has just been inside of him to wipe away some of his tears.

"Let em' out, sweetheart. You know I love it when you cry."

Peter's face crumples and Wade's grin deepens. When he repositions himself behind him, Peter hides his face in the mattress again. He feels Wade and the fake cock brush against him and tells himself this is what he needs, to feel full again, to feel possesed, to know his body is, in this moment, not his own, only Wade's to do with as he pleases. 

He's pleased to find he's not wrong, not entirely.

Wade grips both himself and the dildo tight in his fist as the other hand holds Peter in place and begins pushing against him.

He wants to throw up. He feels like he's going to throw up. The shakes return in full force with the stress his body is under, and despite the overwhelming heat in the room and inside of him, he breaks out in cold sweats.

This is the first time Wade has put him in enough pain to feel physically nauseated, but Peter needs it. He needs it so bad he feels sick with it. He stifles his instincts and ignores the screaming protests of his muscles, and does his best to bear down as Wade pushes.

Sharp, sickening pain shoots up his spine as both Wade and the dildo finally push past his ring of muscle and slide into him hard, he feels like he's being torn open, for all he knows he might be.

Once he's pushed as deep into Peter's tembling body as he can go, Wade runs a soothing hand down the sweat slick skin of his spine, bringing it to rest over his nape, gripping just tight enough to make Peter sigh through stuttered, wet pants.

Something in him unclenches at the feeling of Wade's hand on his neck, it's such an inverse reaction in such a short span of days, but the tight weight of it is comforting, it helps him let go, sink into the pain rather than being caught on the shocking, overwhelming surface of it.

Wade pulls back enough to make Peter whimper at the sudden chasm inside of him, before slamming back in hard enough to make him let out a ragged scream into the mattress. Pain and pleasure, not just at physical sensation but at the complete, unimaginable feeling of ownership that comes with being used as he is. Again, Wade pulls back and viciously stuffs him full again, his rhythm picks up and Peter can no longer distinguish whether the pain is getting better or worse. His body is a mess, his mind is a mess, unstable and bruised and so, so overcome by the force of the fullness inside of him. Unable to think of anything else.

The snap of Wade's hips is merciless, and Peter doesn't even realize he's making noises until Wade digs his nails into the sides of Peter's neck and orders him to scream louder. He tries his best, he's manages more wretched sobbing, than screaming, but if the uptick in the speed of his thrusts is any indication, Wade isn't disappointed, and that's all he needs.

When Wade's thrusts get more erratic, increasing in urgency, he lets go to grab Peter by the elbows and start pulling him back into his thrusts hard enough that Peter is fairly certain he feels it in his teeth. He falls over Peter's back when he comes and bites down on his neck hard enough to break the skin, tonguing at the blood that seeps from the wound as his hips twitch against Peter's, riding out the last of his orgasm inside of him.

Once he's truly finished, he collapses against Peter for a long moment, murmering into his neck as he sucks hot, open mouthed kisses into the skin there. Telling Peter how well he did, how good he was, and the sick feelings inside Peter finally feels quieted.

Peter's not sure how long he stays there, running his hands over his sides, once or twice bringing one down to rub at his sore hole, tracing the rim of him, still stretched tight over him and the dildo.

By the time he finally sits back on his heels and pulls out of Peter, his breath has steadied and most of the shaking has subsided. The emtiness inside him is deeply uncomfortable enough to make him feel like he could start crying again, but he doesn't get a chance. Wade grabs the bar between his legs, pulling it up to flip him over then drags him down the bed by his neck until both his cock and the silicone one are brushing Peter's face as he gasps for air.

"Cleanup time!" Wade exclaims, grinning down at him pleasedly. Peter swallows hard but opens his mouth obediently, craning up to mouth first at Wade's softening cock. His arms are crushed painfully under him and he can feel Wade's come spilling out of his gaping asshole, the humiliation is too much to face so he does his best to concentrate single-mindedly on the cocks above him.

It doesn't take long to lap and suck Wade clean, it's nice, in a way. The dildo is somehow worse, the plastic taste and too rigid texture feel wrong. He can tell from the way Wade is looking down at him that he's not allowed to complain, but he misses the taste of Wade.

Once he's finished, Wade pulls back and leans down do give him a soft, slow kiss. The angle is awkward, but Peter surges up into it with a soft moan. Wade's tongue moves languidly over his, deep and claiming but unhurried.

He sits up again, leaving Peter breathless to stare up at the ceiling while Wade searches for the key to the restraints.

He finally manages to find it and spins Peter around sideways to free him, giving each wrist and ankle a brief rub, pressing kisses to the inside of his joints, before letting them splay out on the mattress and moving on to the next. When he reaches the last ankle he tosses the bar to the floor and keeps hold, running his hand over Peter's leg before pushing it up to his chest.

"Look how fucking used you are, baby boy." Wade groans, eyes no doubt resting on Peter's stretched out, leaking hole. "Just when I think you can't get any prettier."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the vibe wasn't too different from the rest of the story! As you might've guessed it was not super easy to get this out, but the good news is it's gotten things flowing again, I'll be back to filling requests in the next few days ♥


	4. Teeny-Tiny Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few people have noted that the last chapter ended too abruptly, and they were absolutely right. I was pretty mentally and emotionally drained when I wrote it and I really just wanted to get it out rather than be another day late. I really wanted to give it a better ending, and I figured more people would see it if I added it as a new chapter instead of just editing it in. Forewarning: compared to the rest of the series, this is super soft.
> 
> This is closer to a drabble than an actual chapter, it follows the last one immediately ♥

Staring down at Peter, stretched out all pretty and perfect and so very, very used, Wade can't imagine ever letting him go. 

Honestly, he hadn't expected him to get this far. After the other day in the alley, some ugly part of him had been sure Peter would bolt. Sure he'd finally snap out of whatever lapse in judgment that had brought him to Wade in the first place, realize what a fucking monster he is and run full speed as far as he could get. 

But he'd stayed. He'd stayed and he'd melted in Wade's arms and now, he'd let him do this.

He's shivering on the bed below Wade and the look on his face makes something in Wade's chest ache. He can't tell if this has brought Peter a step closer to him or pushed him one step back, he's not even sure which he wants more, at this point. 

He releases Peter's leg and collapses over him, letting him take his full weight for a moment the way he knows he likes, and rolls them to the side, keeping his arms tight around Peter. It takes no prompting at all for Peter to bury his face in Wade's shoulder and approximately two seconds for the tears to start falling. He presses kisses into Peter's hair and rubs his hand over the length of his spine.

"It's alright, sweetheart." He can hear Peter trying to stifle the tiny hiccuping sounds that are trying to escape him, inevitably headed towards heavier tears. "Let it out, baby boy. You were so, so good for me, I'm gonna take care of you." The promise comes out a little more vehement than he means it to. He realizes it's stupid, really, really fucking stupid. Good things don't last long, in his life, and Peter is definitely a good thing. Arguably the best thing, and when he really decides to leave Wade is pretty sure he won't be able to stop him, though he's sure as hell going to try. 

Peter's body is shaking against him, quiet sobs sending tremors through his body, and Wade does is best to bring the covers up over them without dislodging him. It requires some awkward, jerky kicks, but he manages and he's pretty sure a small laugh escapes between the sobs while he's busy flailing, so he'll call it a win. 

While Peter's crying runs its course, Wade makes sure there's no doubt in his mind about how well he's done. As long as he lives, he's never going to be able to forget the sight of Peter collapsed and spread wide, stuffed full of two cocks and trembling as he does his best to take them despite his obvious agony. He's not going to say he couldn't want anything more, because he definitely does and he plans to take it, but he definitely couldn't want it from anyone more perfect for it than Peter.

Just the thought of it gets Wade's arousal stirring it, but he forces it back. Thinking unsexy thoughts isn't the easiest thing in the world while he's still cuddled up against a naked Peter, but he manages.

When the tears have finally stopped and Peter is no longer shaking in his arms, he looks up at Wade with wet, red-rimmed eyes and Wade leans down to kiss him, sliding a hand up to cup his neck and squeezing him even tighter against him. 

Peter sinks into it, making a needy, wounded noise, and Wade keeps it slow and deep. He wants to taste every inch of Peter, get so deep inside him that no one else can ever leave a mark so deep. He can't help making the kiss a little rougher when the thought crosses his mind, but it seems to make Peter happy and Wade is reminded again how lucky he is. 

He pulls back and drops a kiss between Peter's brows that leaves him looking almost startled, but unquestionably pleased. 

"Let's get you fed, baby boy." 

He rolls out of bed, despite Peter's protests, and skips happily to the only slightly dingy kitchen area. Peter's protesting that he seriously doesn't have anything decent to eat, but Wade's no amateur, he's planned ahead. Always be prepared, or some shit. He opens the crisper drawer- which, he's pretty sure has never once in Peter's tenancy seen an actual vegetable- and grabs a plastic container of pre-cut fruit and a chocolate bar from inside. Shoving the drawer shut, he kicks the door closed and heads happily back to the bed, tossing the plastic lid and chocolate wrapper to the floor while ignoring Peter's half-hearted demand that he throw them away properly. 

He sets them on the sad table by the bed and tosses himself back on to it, sliding his legs back under the covers and pulling Peter up to meet him. 

Once they're settled, he's got his legs crossed, Peter in his lap and able to lean back comfortably against the wall with the blanket still wrapped around him. If Wade looks close, there's still a trace of the nervous anxiety that's been lingering in Peter's eyes the last few days, but it's slowly dimming, and Wade is determined to wipe it out entirely. He pulls him close with one arm and tilts his legs so Peter is pressed just a little bit closer. 

He reaches over to grab a piece of fruit from the table and brings it up to Peter's lips, his cheeks are dusted pink and his eyes are wide but he opens his mouth obediently and Wade grins. He leaves a trail of sweet, sticky juice over his lip before popping it into Peter's mouth. He watches his baby boy savour the taste of it and can't help leaning up to taste the chase from his taste from his lips. Peter leans into it and when he pulls back the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile that's almost shy.

Wade grabs a piece of chocolate and congratulates himself on a job well done. By some miracle, he hasn't ruined things just yet, despite his best efforts. With every piece of sweet food that passes his lips, Peter gradually relaxes a little more against him. By the time they're finished all the food, Peter is slumped against him with lips swollen with kisses and a much less shy smile. Wade lays them down, keeping Peter close, and listens to his breath even out while he whispers praise into his ear. 

His sweet boy is still his and the thought of how much he can put him through before he runs, if the last few days didn't do it, makes Wade near sick with pleasure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, Wade does care! Albeit, maybe not in the healthiest way, but it's Wade. Fun fact: my first impulse was to have him keep Peter laying down while he was eating because I really like the clear positional power dynamics involved in hand feeding when one person is lower than the other, but my brain was literally like 'but wHAT IF HE CHOKES' and I couldn't get past it.
> 
> P.S. for clarity: don't worry, the series isn't over, just this particular story ♥

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to say hello, drop a request, or point out any errors here or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/)/[twitter](https://twitter.com/dirtbirdie) ♥


End file.
